CHASING LIFE (5 page)

‘I hope so too,’ Dave replied affably.

‘So where are you from?’ the man asked.

‘Melbourne, Australia.’

‘Oh, an Aussie. I’ve never been to Australia.’

‘But didn’t you board in Melbourne?’ Dave inquired.

‘I was in transit from New Zealand. I’m on my way to Paris via Hong Kong and then back to New Zealand or maybe even Tahiti. I’m not sure yet, I tend to travel the world and party like crazy.’ In a complete non sequitur, the traveller asked, ‘And you’re married? A girlfriend perhaps?’

‘Nope, I’m on my own. You’re from the South, I take it?’ Dave added,
trying to get away from the topic of his marital status.

‘Yeah, Alabama. The name
’s Earl.’

‘Mine’s Dave. Nice to meet you,’ he said, shaking hands. ‘Are you on business or a holiday?’

‘I’m retired. I just travel these days. How about you?’

‘Holiday to Hong Kong,’ Dave replied.

‘A great place! How long are you staying?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘I’ve no idea. I’ll figure it out when I get there. Can you recommend any accommodations for a first-time visitor?’ D
ave asked.

Earl laughed
. ‘You sure got a casual approach to travellin’! Try the Ragan Hotel. It’s in Wan Chai, close to Times Square and not too expensive.’

‘Thanks, I will.’

‘That’s interesting, an open-ended journey,’ Earl declared with a smile. ‘I love Thailand and Cambodia. I’ve been there many times, but Southeast Asia just keeps drawing me back.’ Earl patted Dave’s arm.

             
‘I’m looking for a new adventure I guess, and I know it’s out there if you’re willing to chase after it,’ Dave said.

             
Just then, the beautiful Asian flight attendant was passing down the aisle and Earl waved a hand in her direction. As she approached, he said to Dave: ‘You won’t be bored in Hong Kong, trust me. Let’s get us some drinks.’ Earl took the liberty of ordering a bottle of red.

‘So how did you find New Zealand, Earl?’
Dave asked as their bottle of wine was brought to them.

‘Very sheepish!’ Earl laughed, slapping Dave playfully on the arm. ‘I’m joking. It’s a great place. I bought this watch there. Look, it hardly works, just like New Zealanders.’

They conversed further while finishing their first glass of wine. Earl proposed another. Dave was feeling a little drowsy but agreed—at least the conversation passed the time.

‘Now Dave,’ began Earl,
his drawl getting drawlier as he imbibed more alcohol, ‘you’re going to Hong Kong, but you have no idea why or for how long. Is that right?’

‘Yep.’

‘And I thought I was crazy. Good for you! Live life as it comes; get in the cosmic flow, man.’ Earl slapped him on the forearm again.

‘What about you? How is it that you’re travelling alone?’
Dave asked.

‘I used to own all sorts of businesses,’ Earl
replied. ‘I sold the last one not long ago and retired. Now I travel as often as possible. I should have done it years ago. You delay and keep working, thinking that you should enjoy life later or with a partner. When you look back and see that you’ve put your whole life on hold, you realise there is no other time. Your hair turns white, and you’ve gained an extra pound for each year you’ve delayed. And then, you keep moving to stop yourself from looking back. That’s all you can do.’ Earl frowned down at his gut, but his eyes weren’t looking there. Within a flash, his face brightened and turned to Dave, ‘You know what? Let’s have something harder,’ he said and pressed the service button.

‘Yes sir?’ a male attendant with a soft Asian accent
said upon coming to their seats.

‘My friend and
I,’ slurred Earl, ‘would like scotch, please.’

‘Sir, I think you’ve had a bit too much,’ the attendant
answered politely.

‘Just give us the fucking drinks!’ Earl exploded. ‘Wait, I’m sorry. My
friend here is getting married and we’re having a small celebration. We won’t disturb anyone, and I promise it’ll be our last one.’

The flight attendant hesitated for a moment and looked at
Dave, who smiled back and struggled to maintain his composure. ‘All right,’ the attendant said, ‘but this will be the last one.’

‘Thank you, sir. I am grateful beyond words,’ Earl
replied, feigning deep sincerity and watching the young man walk toward the drinks cart.

‘You sneaky bastard,’ Dave said, grinning.

‘Shh. He’s coming back.’ The man wheeled the cart over and poured their drinks. ‘Thank you, my man and cheers to you.’ Earl raised his glass and took a sip. The flight attendant ignored him and moved toward an adjacent row of passengers.

‘Grab
that bottle,’ Earl hissed to Dave.

‘What?’

‘The scotch bottle, quick that one, he’s not looking,’ Earl pointed. Dave outstretched his arm and grabbed the bottle. The flight attendant was too busy serving to notice Dave filling their cups full. The bottle was half empty when he returned it back in its place.

‘We should have kept
it,’ Earl said and they burst out in laughter like a couple of barflies.

‘It’s lights out for me, Earl
,’ Dave said and looked down at the empty cup that seemed to distort and blur. ‘I’m going to catch up on some sleep, I think.’ Dave plugged in his earphones and scanned through the music channels, tucking his arms under a blanket.

‘Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,’ Earl muttered. He adjusted his seat and put on an eye mask. In a matter of minutes he was snoring.

Six hours later the plane landed at Hong Kong International Airport. Dave felt horrible. Arriving at his first destination with a hangover was not a smart move. Earl, on the other hand, seemed wholly unaffected.

‘It’s been a pleasure getting drunk with you, Dave.
Don’t be surprised if we bump into each other again. It’s a small world.’ The last few words put a warm smile on the American’s face, as if remembering a fond moment from a distant past.

‘Same here, Earl
and have a safe trip home.’ The two men shook hands.

‘Enjoy Hong Kong,
every bit of it,’ Earl called out and chuckled while walking away. They were off in separate directions, one through transit and the other to the arrivals gate.

Earl seemed like a man bent on getting everything out of life
and had fun on the way. However, Dave could tell there was a lot more to him. Only a seasoned drinker recovered as easily as Earl. He felt the man’s regret for lost time and the words resonated a warning for Dave. Earl was a good and likable character. But Dave didn’t want to end up like him: older, fatter and flying all over the world alone and regretting the opportunities he’d missed. There was something about him that Dave didn’t get.

As
Dave merged with the bustling crowd, he looked around and took in the sight. At five foot eleven, slim, with short dark hair and a western European complexion, Dave thought he’d stick out like a typical foreigner in an Asian city. He wasn’t the most attractive man; mid-range, he considered himself. He had a concave nose that was a little rounded on the end, and blue eyes that squinted when he laughed. He usually blended into the crowd well, and there was no outstanding feature about him, except perhaps for his smile and thick hair. Julia used to say he had a cheeky smile. She found it adorable and always made him blush like a schoolgirl when she made a point of it. People thought he’d be lighter skinned on account of his Dutch heritage. But his father had discovered that his great-grandfather married a Jewish girl and the lineage changed course. He was named David as homage to her.

In his early twenties
, when he met Julia, Dave had been devoted to athletics and swimming. In those days, he’d been super-fit. One thing about swimming, however, was that he was prone to stacking on kilos once the training regimes stopped. The only time that he’d lost weight in his adult life was during Julia’s sickness. Now, he was at eighty-eight kilos and his belly gave his shirts a rounded shape. Sucking it in just wasn’t working and he’d finally resolved to develop an interest in his appearance again. He’d promised himself to change his eating habits. His plan was to stick to healthy meals and hold off on junk food.

Dave had come to Hong Kong with no expectations and was already surprised to see the mix of nationalities at the airport.
It was teeming with people, a hive of humanity. Besides being racially diverse, a range of classes was evident by the clothing people wore. It ran the gamut from the attire of people from poorer regions of Asia such as Vietnam and Cambodia, to the fashionable dress of mainland Chinese girls carrying shopping bags emblazoned with luxury brand names. While walking through the airport, Dave also picked up the multilingual chatter of young Italian backpackers, German businessmen, African athletes and Buddhist monks of indeterminate origin. It was as if the United Nations had gathered in a small part of the world, going about their business.

He walked into a magazine store and browsed
over the books, newspapers and magazines lining the shelves. About half of them were in English, not foreign enough, he thought. His eyes landed on th
e
South China Morning Post and read the headlines,
China’s growth slowing but still at eight percent
. A photo showed a row of skyscrapers with cranes sticking out of them like TV antennas trying to catch the right signal. On another,
China’s upper and middle class on the rise, youth spending more and not saving.
Just underneath it,
president Hu Jintao’s term to finish in the following year, Xi Jinping rumoured to replace him
. These were strangers’ names without meaning to Dave. But over a billion people would surely know who they are. That number alone was mind blowing.

             
He pulled himself from the throng of people and pulled his mobile out of his bag to call his parents to let them know he’d arrived safely. He wasn’t planning to be in regular contact but thought he’d owed them that much. His mum fussed over him on the phone, as usual. She asked if he was still taking pills, and he reassured her he wasn’t. The anti-depressants he’d temporarily been taking had made him feel like a sloth. His dad worried why he hadn’t called to let them know when he was leaving. They both sensed their son wasn’t being completely truthful, but Dave’s mind wasn’t up for extended conversations with either one. He tried to convince them all was fine and promised to keep in touch, cutting off any further questioning with a quick goodbye. Dave loved both of them dearly. His parents had been behind him his entire life, and he could never repay them enough.

The size of the ai
rport left him in awe. It was the engineering itself that impressed the most. He had no problem finding his way around the mammoth structure. A metro line linked the airport to Hong Kong city; he went through customs, exchanged some money, bought an Airport Express pass and boarded the train. There were a few groups of tourists, and some were on their own, like Dave. The train’s comfortable seats made for a pleasant journey, and he stretched his legs and tried to clear his head.

He gazed
through the windows outside, and saw a cloudy damp afternoon. A vast number of apartment buildings came into view as the train accelerated on its twenty-four minute journey. The apartment buildings were sprawled across the island, perched on steep hillsides and stretching high into the sky. This is the real urban jungle, he thought to himself.

Once t
he train arrived at Central Station on Hong Kong Island, Dave stepped out eagerly into the unknown. Walking outside in the open air was like entering a sauna. Humid air mixed with a variety of smells hit him unexpectedly. Some smells were food-related and others not so pleasant and better left unknown. All of his senses were bombarded by the electric buzz of life in that densely populated place. He immediately realised that there was no such thing as personal space there as he was jostled on all sides. Yet despite the congestion, traffic flowed seamlessly. A horde of people went about their business uninterrupted, and the city appeared to function like an efficient appliance.

Dave h
ailed a taxi and asked to be taken to Wan Chai district. Earl had told him that this was the place to be for someone single and wanting to be close to the action. No matter where he looked, the high-rise towers lined the skyline with elaborate and graceful architecture. He couldn’t help but see it as a testament to humanity’s vanity and ingenuity. After the taxi driver dropped him off at the Ragan Hotel, Dave checked in and took the elevator to his air-conditioned room, which had a double bed and a view of skyscrapers and concrete. He was desperately in need of a shower.

Chapter 7

Ragan
Hotel was nestled between two larger buildings and was only a block away from the local fish market. Dave’s room was small and clean but stank of cigarettes and beer, prompting him to make a mental note to complain about it to reception. A fresh T-shirt, jeans and casual runners would do for a stroll through the city, he thought. At 8:00 in the evening he had no idea whether to eat and go out or just check out the city on foot. Dinner wasn’t on his mind, but maybe a massage for his stiff neck and sore joints, followed by a drink or two at a quiet bar would be a good idea. He knew he was in the right place for good and cheap massages, after all.

The freedom of s
o much choice was liberating and put a smile on his face. The receptionist handed him a tourist map of Hong Kong Island and circled some well-known landmarks. The man squinted at him as if trying to judge the purpose of Dave’s visit, then pointed to Lockhart Road and Wyndham Street. ‘You will find out which you like better,’ he said, grinning. Not knowing whether the receptionist was implying anything or just being friendly, Dave thanked him for the directions.

He stepped outside into a downpour, which added to the discomfort of the high humidity. The air was thick with foul smells emanating from the fi
sh market and the rubbish-flooded gutters. The streets themselves had turned into small streams from the heavy rain. As Dave walked down a narrow footpath, a car zoomed by and hit a large puddle, drenching him with a wall of water. Small consolation, he thought, that it wasn’t sewage overflow. But he was still pissed off, and his hair was a mess.

The city was alight with neon. Some shops were closing for the night while others were just opening.
People crowded around bus stops, waiting patiently while a sea of commuters rushed in and out of train stations. Taxis thronged the roads, but Dave resisted catching one. Several times he had to stop and backtrack to check the street signs. Even though they were written in both Cantonese and English, some thoroughfares had no signs at all.

H
e finally reached Lockhart Road, where a sea of colourful neon lighting flickered in a dazzling night show. Double-decker buses rumbled on each side of the street, spewing diesel fumes. The smell stuck to his skin like wet paper. But he loved it and felt the excitement surging in him with each step deeper into the city. The place had so much energy. Music poured into the streets and people were going in and out of all sorts of bars and nightclubs that dotted the road.

While a massage was still on his mind, it was the girls outside the bars that capt
ured his attention. He passed a dive bar where dance music boomed from the patio. He could see that inside, waitresses were serving drinks in short miniskirts and extremely tight tops that revealed their cleavage. White middle-aged and overweight men sat around the bar, chatting with provocatively dressed girls a third their age. He shuddered a little at a snatch of conversation that he overheard. There’s something wrong about a teenage girl calling a sixty-year-old man ‘honey’, he thought to himself. From their darker skin and facial features Dave guessed they were either Filipino or Thai.

This
scene didn’t appeal to him and he moved on to where four girls lingered in front of another bar. They were all slim and curvaceous with glistening skin-tight dresses, their faces plastered with bright red lipstick and too much foundation, on heels so high they could hardly walk. They danced provocatively with each other like they were having an orgy, right there in the open. Two of them blocked his path as soon as he was spotted, enticing him in broken English to enter the establishment. Dave found it bizarre. He was curious, self-conscious and embarrassed at the same time.

‘Hey, handsome boy.’

‘I like you.’

‘Come for drink
, sexy man.’

‘You hot. Come here.
I like you.’

‘I want to have your baby!’ One called out from inside, just to make sure she wasn’t
outdone. They all broke out in laughter and Dave could tell they were taking the piss, poking fun at their own stereotyped image.

He
smiled uneasily and said nothing, feeling extremely self-conscious, as if the attention of the whole neighbourhood had turned on him. He walked briskly on and looked straight ahead as if wearing blinkers. The whole area felt like an open-air brothel. Now he understood why the hotel receptionist had given him that look. Because he was travelling alone, the man must have thought that he had come for the sex tourism, hence the directions to the red-light district.

Dave had heard about Hong Kong’s renowned flesh-peddling market. In his state of mind, sleazy bars and cheap prostitutes were not a good idea.
Julia was still with him. He carried her presence with him as if she watched his every move. These girls are after your money, Dave, he heard her voice say. Are you really that desperate? Hearing her imagined voice, he asked himself why he was there.

No way would he follow in the footsteps of
the men he saw, being relieved of his earnings and escaping reality for a few hours by drowning in alcohol and prostitutes. No way, he thought. He wasn’t sure what was sadder: the young girls selling their bodies to pasty-skinned white men who couldn’t string a sentence together in the presence of a woman back home, let alone hold a relationship, or the men who fell for the compliments and thought of themselves as somehow special and charismatic to those girls.

He was determined to find a normal bar with decent clientele. A neon sign read ‘Blue Lake’
. Inside was a mix of men and women around his age. Dave hesitated but, wanting a drink, pushed past the door. Girls by far outnumbered guys, the latter mostly European and Australian. He felt eyes on him, but he still had his blinkers on and headed straight for the bar.

‘I’ll have a pot of beer—whatever you’ve got on tap—a packet of cigarettes and a lighter,’ he said to the barmaid. He paid for the drink and went outside for a smoke. He placed his beer on a table and sparked up, slowly dragging in a long breath and savouring the moment. A satisfying feeling ran through his body as the nicotine did its job.

Dave noticed two girls and a young man at a table next to him. The man was scolding one of the gi
rls with permed hair and, judging by his accent, Dave guessed him to be eastern European—Russian, perhaps. When he looked in their direction, the girl caught his eye, a skinny little thing in high heels. Her mouth was disproportionately large for her face and the cheap red lipstick and runny mascara did her no favours. She wore a tight singlet and an equally undersized skirt. There is no way she could bend over in that thing without flashing everyone, he thought. A loud nasal tone came out of her mouth and she grinned to show horse-like teeth.

‘Hello honey,’ s
he said, winked and blew him a kiss. Dave cringed.

‘What are you doing?’ her companion
responded with jealousy.

‘It’s ok
ay. I still like you, baby,’ she cooed, stroking his face.

‘Why are you doing this
? Why are you looking at him?’ the young man demanded. Dave listened to them arguing. When the man was distracted by one of his friends, the girl turned to Dave again. She gave him a wide smile and whipped her tongue at him, twirling and flicking it obscenely. She placed her hands on the table, vigorously grinding her pelvis back and forth. Dave couldn’t help but laugh at this horny little Chihuahua humping the table.

‘What are you doing?
’ her male companion said, swaying side to side in a boozed up state. ‘You want him? Go for him.’ Spittle erupted from his mouth in his anger. He wobbled sideways and neared Dave. Dave could smell the guy’s rank beer breath and could see how shit-faced he was. He turned his back, ready to say ‘She’s all yours mate, I wouldn’t touch her if you paid me.’ Which was probably what that guy had done. The beer wasn’t going down too well, and Dave wasn’t up for venturing back inside the club after that little incident. Meanwhile other drunk men staggered down the rainy street and fell for the traps set by the bar girls. Some of them wore suits, businessmen out to get wasted before going back to their wives. By the time the girls finished with them, they’d be drunk beyond the hope of an erection and picked clean of cash.

Witnessing the scene, Dave
questioned whether he had done the right thing in coming to Hong Kong with no plan. He could feel loneliness and regret threatening to grip him. There was no one he could rely on here. He took out a cigarette, fumbled with it and helplessly watched it fall to the ground. Three cockroaches came rushing out from underneath the building and raced to it. Dave watched with horrified fascination as a battle raged over his cigarette. The strongest cockroach eventually won and dragged it back underneath the building for a feast. That’s it, he thought, I’ve had enough. The cockroaches summed up his experience in the red-light district of Lockhart Road. He put his half-full beer down and hailed a taxi.

‘Hey, don’t come back here again
,’ the drunkard with the girl called out to him.

‘I’ll make sure of that,
’ Dave replied over his shoulder. He felt insulted and would have thumped the guy had he stayed any longer.

‘
To Wyndham Street, please,’ he told the driver. After that experience, he’d settle for a nice massage and just go back to his hotel.

The rain
was unrelenting. It hadn’t stopped since he’d arrived, and it was starting to make him feel miserable. Dave took the map out and stared at his next location as if something interesting would reveal itself. The hotel receptionist had told him it was nice there but what did ‘nice’ mean, coming from a local recommending places to a lone male tourist? Buildings became smaller and the streets neater the closer he got to Wyndham Street. Every little bit of real estate was occupied. Hong Kong is not for someone who favours wide-open or personal space, he thought to himself. Like tiny Lego blocks, apartment buildings were stacked on top of each other in an endless sprawl.

When the taxi pulled over,
Dave paid the fare and looked in both directions, unsure of which way to go. Since he was on a hill, he decided on a side street off Wyndham that led to a downward flight of stairs. At their terminus was the central part of the city, but the streets melted into each other and he couldn’t tell them apart amid an assortment of shops, commercial billboards, flashing neon signs, all sorts of restaurants and high-rise business buildings. Dave was surprised to see McDonald’s, Subway and virtually any other commercial business he was used to seeing back in Australia.

Finally, among
the maze of advertising signs that covered virtually entire buildings, Dave spotted a massage centre and followed the entrance sign downstairs. With a smile on his face, he went straight to the counter and greeted the receptionist.

‘Yes?’ t
he woman’s expression was one of surprise.

‘I’d like a massage,
’ he said.

‘One moment,’ s
he replied before calling someone else. Another woman emerged from a room and spoke to her co-worker in Cantonese before addressing Dave.

‘Can I help yo
u?’ she said, her face showing utter indifference. She looked unimpressed with his presence and somewhat annoyed.

‘
Yes. I’d like a massage. Do I need a reservation?’

‘One
moment please. I check if free,’ she sighed and glanced at a computer monitor, then almost immediately turned back to him. ‘Not free tonight. Goodbye.’

She couldn’t possibly
have seen the screen at that angle. ‘Fine!’ Dave replied and stormed out. Obviously he wasn’t wanted there, but why the bullshit? He noticed what looked to be a sign indicating an all-female clientele on his way out. Suddenly he felt embarrassed. Maybe it was a mistake on his behalf, but it didn’t justify the treatment he got. Did they think he was just another pasty skinned white man looking for happy ending? Hong Kong managed to piss him off again, and it was doing it quite easily. He felt like going back into the massage place and giving them a lecture on manners. His hands were shaking with anger.

‘
What the hell am I doing here?’ he mumbled to himself. Doubts entered his mind. Where was he going? Maybe Amy was right, and he should have stayed in Melbourne. Was he up for this stuff? Going off on his own in another country? He wasn’t a brave adventurer. Only with Julia did he feel he could do anything—she knew how to calm him. He realised that this culture clash was going to be hard for him to deal with on his own.

T
he rain came down harder and the lack of cover meant he was constantly wet and clammy. He reached for his back pocket to check the map, but it wasn’t there—he must have dropped it. ‘Shit!’ He swore and looked around, realising how ridiculous the chances of finding it were. For a man with zero sense of direction in a strange city, it was almost impossible to find his way without a map. It was hard enough with one. His plan of taking it as it came was not going well. Now he was lost.